Tag: Travel

Today am in need to grasp something solid and immovable, so that I may wake up tomorrow to start my second draft. Maybe.
…so with this in mind, my next entry in the blog is the bibliography of draft 1.

There is a strange feeling I experience when my gaze moves from my laptop whilst writing a script of a story based in the dry red Goldfields of Western Australia to the lush green fields outside my studio window at the Artist Residency quarters at Bundanon Trust. Is this the same country?

I have been in Bundanon for 3 weeks, and I finally finished the first draft of the play I have wanted to write since I began this blog. Instead of celebrating, I am feeling vulnerable. Writing is a solo activity, and although I am enjoying meeting and sharing stories and meals with other artists here, I still spend much of my time alone with my laptop, living in a surreal internal world between desert and hinterland, fact and fiction, and tropical Broome, where I was before I came here, winter in Tokyo, where I am going to be in two weeks time for Christmas, my brief 2 day return to my apartment in Rozelle last weekend, and my memories of the last two years since I had an inkling of what it was I wanted to write, I no longer seem to know if what I have written makes any sense or if the story is of any interest to anyone other than me, and what and how, if at all, am I going to do next with this script.

Today am in need to grasp something solid and immovable, so that I may wake up tomorrow to start my second draft. Maybe.

Following signs upon signs, coincidences upon coincidences without logic, other than the ones formulated in hindsight, there I was, in the bustling Leonora Whitehouse Hotel.

Water pipe of the Goldfields Water Supply Scheme, Kellerberrin, WA. Photo by Mayu Kanamori

As our train named Prospectortraveled alongside the seemingly never ending steel water pipeline that delivers water along the 530 km stretch to the Eastern Goldfields from Perth, I am once again reminded of the vastness of Australia, the aridity of this land’s interior, and that how our struggle for fresh water created much conflict since the time of first contact between its original inhabitants and new settlers.

The construction of the Goldfields Water Supply Scheme started in 1898, the same year Okin, a Japanese woman working in the town of Malcolm in the Eastern Goldfields, was allegedly raped. Gold had just been discovered in Malcolm, yet another 230 kms further north from Kalgoorlie into the arid interior of Western Australia.

The thought of how she travelled from her village in Japan with plentiful fresh water from the mountains, what drove her so far into the interior of this dry land, makes me feel ashamed of my air-conditioned comfort. Something about the act of documenting this landscape and my journey to the place Okin had travelled to, lived and worked, with an expensive toy-like video recorder, a GoPro purchased recently especially for this trip makes me feel like a fraud, not to mention the chit chatting with my travel companions, and the sparkling wine from the train kiosk I had been sipping.

My travel companions are both women, both with Australian fathers and mothers from the UK. They had only met that morning for the first time in Perth, when I introduced them as my two long-time friends, who for their own reasons, decided to come along on this journey. Although this was the first time I had companions on a project related research trip, it seemed apt in a loose synchronistic way, considering I originally started this project with a vague idea that I would write about 3 Japanese women in Australian history and their relationships with Australian men, and as a result, my digital parent folder for this project is still labeled “3 Women”.

Travel companions Sue Dowell and Lisa Iley in the Eastern Goldfields near the fence line of the Butterfly Mine owned by Nex Metals Explorations Ltd, WA. Photo by Mayu Kanamori

After hiring a car in Kalgoorlie the following afternoon, we drove up the Goldfields Highway, north to Leonora for the night. Leonora is 19 kms west of, and the nearest town to the now abandoned ghost town site of Malcolm where Okin had once lived and worked in a house she said was a laundry, and others said was a brothel.

Wild flowers along the Kookynie Malcolm Road near the original town of Butterfly in the Eastern Goldfields., WA. Photo by Mayu Kanamori

Other than the two barmaids, one who was a beautiful young blonde haired ‘Skimpy of the Day,’ dressed in a tight black vinyl g-stringed body suit, the clientele in the main bar of the Leonora White House Hotel were all men. Many worked in nearby mines, others worked on pastoral stations or on road works. I was glad my friends were with me to assist my mission for the night to find local information, especially about the historic town of Butterfly, which used to exist 30 kms south of Malcolm and about the current Butterfly gold mine.

This project has never really had a planned route and destination. All I have really done is to follow signs and gut feelings as it revealed itself in time. The first sign was that I found the results of our 2015 National Opera Review Discussion Paper, which mentioned Puccini’s Madama Butterflyas one of the family favorites in Australian opera as problematic. I applied to the National Library of Australia’s Japan Study Grant (now Asia Study Grant) to research on the history of Japanese women in Australia to find out why. There I found Okin’s story nestled amongst the original manuscripts of historian D.C.S. Sissons, and upon googling the town of Malcolm where she had lived, found the town of Butterfly only 30 kms away. Then I found also through google, that there was a current goldmine called Butterfly too.

I have just been following signs upon signs, coincidences upon coincidences without logic, other than the ones formulated in hindsight, there I was, in the bustling Leonora Whitehouse Hotel with my girlfriends.We decided to go around the bar, buying beers for the men, asking them questions and pumping them for information.

Although regrettable, it cannot be helped, that all cultures have their own recognition of taste and aesthetics.

It was once again my mentor Dr Keiko Tamura, who recommended me to visit the grounds of the Irifuneyama Memorial Museum, which include the former official residence of generations of Naval Commander-in Chiefs of Kure, and after WWII, that of the BCOF’s Commander of the Allied Forces.

Volunteer guide at the Irifuneyama Memorial Museum, guard post on the left and clocktower on the right. Kure, Japan. Photo by Mayu Kanamori

Although the Kure City Maritime Museum, commonly known as the Yamato Museum, is seemingly the most popular tourist destination in Kure, boasting 10 million visitors in the first 10 years of operation since it opened its doors in 2005, as a student of Australia – Japan relations, it was important for me to visit during my very brief stay in Kure, the Irifune Memorial Museum and the Naval Academy on nearby Eta Island, because they were both places where the Australians as part of BCOF was stationed.

Climbing up the hill from the entrance of the Irifuneyama Memorial Museum, passing the clocktower and the guard post, was a small building where a volunteer guide stood. He introduced himself to me eagerly, and welcomed me as if I was a foreign dignitary on an official visit. There appeared to be no other visitors that morning, and former residence of the Commanders, both Japanese and Australian, was very quiet, empty and serene.

At the entrance of former residence with a Western style frontage, another volunteer guide welcomed me, and was eager to show me around. He told me about the architecture of the building, designed by an English trained Japanese architect with a Western style wing for the Commander’s public quarters and a Japanese style wing for his private quarters.

Western wing of the former residence of Naval Commander-in Chiefs of Kure with restored kinkara-kami wall paper. Kure, Japan. Photo by Mayu Kanamori

When I let him know I was interested in the Australians, he explained to me at great length, in the most diplomatic manner, how the foreign occupiers had changed the décor of the residence to their cultural tastes, painting white paint over their valued unique wall and ceiling feature decorated with kinkara-kami, which is a rare type of gold-embossed paper. Since, the City of Kure and the Museum have reproduced the original patterns as wallpaper of this building as part of their restoration process. As there are now very few people with knowledge of the making of the kinkara-kami, they hold workshops to preserve the knowledge. He then explained to me in painstaking detail, how to make kinkara-kami. He added in the end, that although regrettable, it cannot be helped, that all cultures have their own recognition of taste and aesthetics.

Although according to Takashi Ueda, a representative of Kinkarakami Institute in Tokyo, the kinkara-kami was highly sought after in Europe and America at the turn of the 19th century and was actively exported, and can still be found in Western buildings, one of which is at Rippon Lea, a National Heritage Listed heritage site in Melbourne, Australia.

When I told him that I was from Australia, interested in the Australian history in Kure, he nodded as to acknowledge he knew the history well, and as if to acknowledge a common bond, two people of the same generation with an interest in military history, he said, “I too am a member of the Maritime Defence Force.”

It started raining as I reached the end of the roofed Renga-dori mall, a shopping street in the middle of Kure with rows clothing shops, selling dresses devoid of sense of time, and restaurants with lunch time specials of the day displayed on the street for the regulars. This brick-lined street was originally called Naka-dori, but changed its name since it became a pedestrian mall lined with 360,000 bricks in 1978. Renga means brick in Japanese.

It was Dr Keiko Tamura, Australia’s foremost scholar on Senso Hanayome (Japanese War Brides) in Australia, who suggested I visit this street, because Naka-dori was where young Japanese woman met with Australian serviceman, who were stationed in this town as part of the British Commonwealth Occupational Forces (BCOF). BCOF had an anti-fraternisation policy, which meant that dating between Australian men and Japanese women was a definite no-no, but then again, I understand from my study about Japanese War Brides in Australia during my research residency at the Australian National Library, and from reading books such as Children of the Occupation: Japan’s Untold Story by former ABC correspondent Walter Hamilton, that families, friends and the most of the population, both in Japan and Australia, would have disapproved of such liaisons.

Without having dressed for rain, I looked for a convenience store to buy a cheap umbrella, but couldn’t find one nearby. Instead I found an old-fashioned umbrella shop, selling high quality umbrellas, some handmade, next door to a men’s clothing shop with a 110 year history, with its window full of naval uniforms, caps and accessories. This was after all Kure, a port city proud of its naval history dating back to 1886 when it was named as one of the four main administrative districts of the pre-war Imperial Japanese Navy. It was also the place where most of the 11,000 Australian servicemen sent to Japan as part of the BCOF was stationed.

After reluctantly buying an expensive umbrella in the shop, I walked up the Irifuneyama hill to visit the Irifuneyama Memorial Museum, which include the former official residence of generations of Naval Commander-in Chiefs of Kure, and after WWII, that of the BCOF’s Commander of the Allied Forces.

Half way up the hill after a fork in the road, with no signs for tourists in sight, I asked a handsome man about my age, walking the street about its whereabouts. He told me I had taken the wrong road, and that he would show me where it was as he was going the same way.

With both of our umbrellas keeping us a comfortable distance away, we shared small talk about the rain. When I told him that I was from Australia, interested in the Australian history in Kure, he nodded as to acknowledge he knew the history well, and as if to acknowledge a common bond, two people of the same generation with an interest in military history, he said, “I too am a member of the Maritime Defence Force.”

This response wasn’t so surprising. Despite the fact that Australian troupes were stationed here once, the city’s long proud history does not reflect the seemingly short period of Allied Occupation, nor I assume, that the people here would want remember those ten long years under occupation. After all, Japan lost the war.

“So you know the history,” I said. “Its difficult being Japanese in Australia because of the memory of Japan’s treatment of Australian POWs, and of course the bombing raids.” Then I remembered that Kure was only 30 kms away from the centre of Hiroshima, and that this place too, was bombed heavily by the Allied Forces killing over 2000 people, half of them, civilians. I then quickly added, “Other than the first contact between Europeans and Indigenous Australians, the Japanese are the only people that ever attacked Australia.” After a long silence, I added again, “And of course there is the issue of text books in Japan.”

He said very little, but gave me what seemed to me like knowing nods.

I was reluctant to end our conversation, but by this time we had reached the grounds of the former residence, now turned museum. But before I thanked him for guiding me to my destination, I quickly added, “So I am interested in the War Brides that came from places like Kure to Australia. I’m researching the relationship between Australian men and Japanese women. I’m hoping I might be able to write a love story.” There was no time left for him to respond, but he bowed instead, and wished me a safe journey. I proceeded to walk up the hill from the entrance towards the residence, stopping occasionally to take photographs, not yet allowing myself the space to think further about my living the binary divide between Australia and Japan; men and women; past and present.

In Shimabara, there is a small hill called the Benten-zan, which has a shrine and a temple. The shrine enshrines the Benzaiten goddess, who is the goddess of everything that flows: water, time, words, speech, eloquence, music and extension of knowledge. Her origins are with goddess Saraswati, the Hindu goddess of knowledge, music, arts, wisdom and learning. I thought it apt to pay my respects, as it was in my making of a performance that brought me to this place.

Entrance to the shrine with Benzaiten; photo by Mayu Kanamori

Further up the hill is the Risho-in Taishi-do, a Buddhist temple established in 1895 by Gonsho Hirota. In 1906 Gonsho went on a pilgrimage to India, and whilst on his journey through South East Asia, he met hundreds of karayuki san, many who were born in this area.

Entrance to Risho-in Taishi-do temple; photo by Mayu Kanamori

At the highest point on the hill is their tennyo-to (could be translated as goddess tower), to enshrine a Buddhist statue he brought back from India. Gonsho built the tower with donations of his followers, many who were karayuki san he met during his travels. Women’s names, the amounts of contributions, and the places they lived, like Singapore, Ipoh, Siberia and Rangoon are inscribed on the stone fence posts surrounding the tower.

Tennyo-to at Risho-in Taishi-do temple; photo by Mayu Kanamori

It is worth mentioning that karayuki san had sent much of their earnings back to their hometowns. D.C.S. Sissons wrote that Osaka Shimbun newspaper, before WWII, calculated that annual remittances home from Amakusa women exceed 200,000 yen, which went a long way towards covering the import surplus of the region. *

Sissons also wrote that the earnings of karayuki san in Australia was much higher than their counterparts in other countries.* I carefully looked at the 286 stone fence posts to see if I could find contributions from Australia, but couldn’t any. Although many of the engravings in the posts had faded, it is probably because Gonsho did not travel to Australia.

Posts with names of contributing karayuki san

Opposite the tennyo-to, there is a stone monument by Tomoko Yamada, the author of Joshi-gun Aishi: Karayuki, shofu, itokoujo tachi no sei to shi (could be translated as Tragedy: Karayuki, prostititutes and the silk factory women’s sex and death). The monument is dedicated to not only the karayuki san, but also to the Comfort women in Asia.

A monument for karayuki san and Comfort Women.

Many of the books with information about karayuki san I had read at the National Library of Australia during my residency, also had chapters on WWII Comfort women. Writers like Tomoko Yamada, Yoshimi Kaneko, Ill-myon-Kim and others elaborate on the connection between the long history and culture of often state endorsed institutionalized prostitution in Japan and the atrocity of the WWII Comfort women.

There were 8 Buddhist figures surrounding the tennyo-to, each a protecting diety for one or two of the animals on the Chinese zodiac. I slowly walk around the tennyo-to in an almost trance like state, and prayed.

The sun was beginning to set as the train I had boarded in Isahaya slowly travelled along the Ariake Sea coast and down the Shimabara Peninsula. The villages on this peninsula and in neighbouring region of Amakusa were the two places in Japan on the island of Kyushu where many of thekarayuki san , the early Japanese prostitutes who came to Australia had come from. The Ariake Sea lies between the two.

View of the Ariake Sea from my train window on the Shimabara Railiway Line with Amakusa in the distance; photo by Mayu Kanamori

According to D.C.S. Sissons, there are no definitive sources of the birthplaces of Japanese women who came to Australia, but varying sources, such as Alien Registration in 1916 and inscriptions on Japanese tombs stones in places like Thursday Island and Broome indicates that more than half of the women were from Nagasaki prefecture where Shimabara is located, followed by those from neighbouring Kumamoto prefecture, where Amakusa is. Other studies show that more than half of the karayuki san worldwide appears to have been from Shimbabara Peninsula and from the Amakusa Islands.* I am here to find out more about them.

It had been a long day for me, having left Tokyo early in the morning, and changing trains six times to reach the castle town of Shimabara for the night. Hoping to reach my hotel before dark, I gazed out to the sea, counting the number of stations until I reached my destination. I thought of the women before me who left this land and sailed on this sea to what they thought was to find a better life for themselves. I thought about my leaving Japan to come to Australia. I was chasing an Australian boy. I wasn’t driven abroad to support myself and my family. I thought of people I love in Sydney and Tokyo, and imagined the shiranui* before my eyes.

“Shiranui” from the Shokoku Rijindan by Kikuoka Tenryo; source Wikipedia

But by the time the train left Omisaki station, I felt as if I was transported to another realm, another time…

18:02 local time, 7 June 2016 on Shimabara Railway Line between Omisaki and Matsuomachi on Shimabara Peninsula, Kyushu; video by Mayu Kanamori

*Shiranui means unknown fire. It is peculiar to Kyushu. They are atmospheric ghost fires, much like the St Elmo’s fire in the West. Shiranui is said to appear several kilometers from the beach in the open sea on days of the noon moon when the wind is weak and are seen at night. There would first be one or two fires, which would split off to the left and right and multiply, and in the end, several hundred to several thousand fires would be lined up on the surface of the sea.